


Bargaining Chip

by EmblemQueen11



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmblemQueen11/pseuds/EmblemQueen11
Summary: "My name is Rayla Elsinthar, and I am a token. A gold piece. A bargaining chip." Nineteen-year-old high elf noble Rayla Elsinthar is sent to Skyrim to be married to Justiciar Ondolemar in Markarth. But when things take a turn for the worst, she finds herself in Windhelm, the seat of the Stormcloak Rebellion.
Relationships: Ulfric Stormcloak/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. To Skyrim

Salty seawater misted me in the face. The roaring waves around the Emerald Maiden crashed against my ears as the large vessel found its way to the docks. We were here. Solitude. The capital city of the land of Skyrim. I shivered and bundled myself in the oversized cloak that had been given to me by one of the crew members.

“You going to Skyrim in that?” the Breton man had said, pointing to my gown that I had brought with me from Alinor. I asked him if he expected me to go in the nude, and he thrusted his own cloak in my face. “You’ll need that. Skyrim’s climate is like nothing you’ve ever seen. If the saber cats don’t get you, the cold will.”

My name is Rayla Elsinthar, and I am a token. A gold piece. A bargaining chip.

I am the only daughter of one of the highest-ranking Thalmor officers from the Summerset Isles. The Elsinthar name has been in high standing with the ruling powers of Summerset since nearly the end of the 2nd Era. My father, and my father’s father, and his father before him, were all Thalmor, sworn to protect the sacred traditions of the Aldmeri, and all of Nirn.

My father, Athved Elsinthar, was perhaps the most dedicated of all the Thalmor in King Calcellor’s service. Currently, he was the highest ranking Justiciar, and right hand of the King. His main duty was to oversee all Thalmor operations in every country of Tamriel. It was a duty that he didn’t take lightly, not by any means.

My mother, Silne, was also the daughter of a Thalmor Justiciar. My parents’ marriage was arranged on political standing. Noble blood had to be kept noble, no matter the cost. My mother’s parents paid a great sum to have their daughter marry into the Elsinthar clan. A decision they didn’t know would come back to haunt them.

You see, my mother was born with a terrible plight. She had seizures constantly when she was growing up, and as a result of her illness, many Aldmeri physicians told her she would never be able to bear children. Her parents knew this, and thus offered her up to as many noble families as they could, hoping one of them would take her. The Elsinthars, as many Aldmeri are, were greedy by nature, so when my mother’s parents offered her to them, they bought her immediately. When she could not conceive, the truth was leaked out, and my maternal grandparents were executed for bribery of false goods. My father was an honorable man, however, and kept her as his wife. If there was one thing he detested more than anything, it was people who broke promises.

One day, the gods smiled on my parents, and my mother finally conceived. But when I came out of her as a girl and not a boy, my father was furious. I was likely the only shot he had at an heir to carry on the Elsinthar name, and I was a failure. Since the moment I was born, my father has been looking to sell me off, just as my mother’s kin did to her.

“Justiciar Ondolemar Larethiane. He oversees our relations in Skyrim,” my father explained one night when he’d called me into his study. It was a room I hated. He never kept it very bright, despite always needing to file paperwork. There were only two candles burning on either side of his writing desk. The whole room reminded me of a prison cell. “Right now, the country is fighting a brutal civil war. Talos worshippers have risen up and aimed to take back Skyrim from the White-Gold Concordat and break their ties with the Empire.” He toyed with the cigar in his hands. “The bastards…”

I cleared my throat softly. “Am I to marry Justiciar Larethiane?” My father flicked the cigar in his hand into the rubbish bin on the floor next to his desk.

“Well I certainly didn’t call you in here simply to chat,” he said, raising his voice. “You are of ripe breeding age and it is about time you marry, bear a child, and make a name for yourself.”

I couldn’t help but quirk my eyebrow. “Don’t I already have a name?” I jumped back on my heels when my father suddenly pushed several books off of his desk.

“Foolish girl! The Elsinthar name is wasted on you! If you can’t carry it on, the least you can do is give me a grandson who might.” He stood from his chair and paced to the front of the desk. “You’ve always been a disappointment. Your only saving quality is your beauty,” he sighed, picking up a stray lock of my platinum blonde hair. “Luckily, there are men of high standing who’ve noticed you, and Justiciar Larethiane is one of them.”

My father’s words always cut me like the sharpest sword, but over the years I had learned to harden my skin. “You are sending me to Skyrim.” It wasn’t a question, for we both knew what I was to do.

“You will leave in a fortnight. The ship will arrive in the city of Solitude and from there, a Thalmor escort will provide you with safe passage to Markarth, where Ondolemar will be awaiting your arrival.” He scoffed and went back behind his desk. “Leave me, now. I am finished with you.”

I nodded. “Yes, my lord father.” I turned to leave, and as I put my hand on the doorknob, he said one last thing to me.

“Gods be good, I’ll never have to see you again.”

Almost six weeks later, here I was. I could see the Blue Palace from my position near the bow of the ship. Jarl Elisif was in there, and I was told I’d be spending the night dining with her and her court while I waited for my team of escorts. I’d been given a crash course of Skyrim’s history and current condition before leaving Summerset. Elisif’s husband, the former High King of Skyrim, had been recently murdered by one of the other Jarls, Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm. As it happened, he was leading the rebellion I had heard so much about before coming here. I was told to watch out for him and his Stormcloak soldiers, because if anyone in Skyrim saw the Altmer as a sincere threat, it was them.

I grabbed my left hand in my right and slid the ring on it back and forth. It was all so strange. To be engaged to a man I had never even met. I had tried to convince myself that if my parents could do it, then so could I, but then, I only saw them together a handful of times in my entire life. My mother had many men in the capital that she called “friends”. She bedded at least one of them every other night. My father didn’t have any interest in the flesh. He knew of my mother’s escapades. He had to have. But he didn’t care enough about her to intervene in her life. They were married, but only in the eyes of the public. I imagined that my marriage to Ondolemar would be more or less the same.

At nineteen, I was a bit passed the proper age to marry. Most noble Altmer women are married by the time they have their first blood. I was a bit of a late bloomer, and I didn’t have mine until I was seventeen. Probably due to the fact that my mother had so many issues. But the physicians assured me that I was fertile and that I had nothing to worry about as far as finding a mate and having children. At the time I considered their words a blessing, but now I wish it had been the opposite. I would rather spend all my days as a court spinster than bed a total stranger.

I was told that Ondolemar was “steadfast and deliberate.” Neither of those qualities seemed appealing to me. He was no spring chicken, either, being nearly fifty years old. I always knew I’d have to marry someone older than me, but I never would’ve thought he’d be _that_ much older. It was enough to make me gag.

“Hard to port!” I heard the crew members shout sporadically, and the next thing I knew, I was nearly thrust off the side of the ship. We’d gotten a little too close to the docks and put a few scratches on the hull. The crew shouted at each other and spewed profanities. I readied myself to disembark.

“We have arrived in Solitude,” Marien, my hand maiden who had been traveling with me, said, taking my bag from me so she could carry it. “I’m told there are many friendly faces here.”

“Somehow, I doubt that, Marien. The only friendly face I expect to find here is that of a skeever,” I said with a smirk. This made Marien giggle.

“Hush, my lady. You shouldn’t say such things.” But she was desperately trying to keep a straight face. Marien may have been my only friend in the world. She always laughed at my jokes and was the only one who could catch onto my sarcasm.

The sun was shining brightly in Skyrim’s largest port city, but I didn’t feel the warming effects of it like I did back home. I was holding a simple fire spell idle in my hand in an attempt to keep warm, but it wasn’t doing much. I pulled my cloak tighter around me as Marien and I made the journey up the path from the ports and into the city proper. The guards looked at us with worried expressions as we came upon the gate.

“Welcome to Solitude,” one of them said. But strangely enough, I didn’t feel welcome. The city gates opened ever so slowly. Once we were inside, I took it all in. The city itself looked charming enough, in its own way. There was a tavern immediately to our left, something I was told was a necessity in all Nordic settlements. To our right, however, was the last thing I expected to see. A public execution.

“Roggvir, you stand accused of opening the city gate for Ulfric Stormcloak the night he murdered High King Torygg,” a big, burly guard told the prisoner, as well as the crowd of people around the executioner’s block. Judging by his more decorated garb, I assumed he was captain of the guards around here. “Do you deny these charges against you?”

The man called Roggvir sighed deeply and cleared his throat. “There was no murder,” he spoke out. “Ulfric challenged the High King to a duel and Torygg accepted. He bested him in fair combat. Such is our way. Such is the way of all Nords!”

The crowd began to boo. I found myself moving closer into the throng, but Marien reached out and grabbed me by the arm. “Best not to get involved in Nord matters,” she warned. I glanced back at her and nodded, but my eyes were still drawn to the scene. Skyrim was a much more troubled land than I ever imagined it would be.

The captain of the guard pushed Roggvir’s head down onto the block unceremoniously, and the headsman raised his humongous axe. “On this day, I go to Sovngarde,” he said quietly.

It was over in a second. One swing of an axe was all it took to end the poor man’s life. His head rolled down off of the executioner’s block and onto the cobblestone beneath him. My stomach turned slightly. 

“Let this be a lesson to anyone who dares to turn against the Empire!” the captain of the guard shouted. Then he looked down at the man’s headless body. “Damn shame, Roggvir. You were a good man.”

Marien and I shared a kindred expression of both shock and concern. “Welcome to Solitude,” she mimicked the words of the guard at the gate.

A few moments later, a well-dressed man approached Marien and me. “Greetings, Lady Rayla Elsinthar of the Summerset Isles.” He bowed, and the two of us curtsied. “My name is Erikur, I am a Thane of Solitude.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I replied. “This is a wonderful city.”

He frowned a little and glanced over at the dead body of Roggvir. “I am terribly sorry you had to witness that bloody execution.” However, his tone didn’t seem very apologetic. “We Nords do not take treachery lightly, though. It had to be done.”

I nodded in understanding. “I’m sure it was the just thing to do. Anyone who betrays the Empire deserves nothing less.”

Erikur smirked. “You are even more straightforward than they said you would be. I like it,” he laughed, and offered his arm to me. “You’ll find that is a quality most appreciated in Skyrim. The people here like to be short, sweet, and to the point. Even better if they don’t even have to talk at all.”

I took his arm and we began walking toward the Blue Palace. Erikur kept rambling on, but I suddenly found that I couldn’t focus on anything but the stone path under my feet. He had told me I was straightforward, but at the moment, my mind was going in all sorts of different directions. Just who was this Ulfric Stormcloak, and why did he murder his king?

Before I knew it, we were inside the Blue Palace, waiting in the reception hall to be seen by Jarl Elisif. So far, the interior of the palace was the only sight that reminded me at all of home. Not long after we’d arrived, another man came down the spiraling staircase and greeted us.

“I am the Jarl’s steward, Falk Firebeard. Please, follow me. Jarl Elisif has been waiting to meet you.”

As soon as I saw Elisif, I knew why they all called her The Fair. She truly was beautiful. She had lovely ginger locks that framed her soft face and dazzling blue eyes. I hadn’t even seen sapphires that were so rich in color. I approached and knelt down before her. “It is an honor to meet you, Jarl Elisif. My hand maiden and I are so very grateful that you’ve allowed us into your home.” I tried my best to smile.

Elisif smiled softly. “Please, no need for such formalities. You are an esteemed guest in Solitude, as the daughter of one of the most influential Thalmor in all of Tamriel.” She took in the sight of me. “But you are lovely. I was told such, but truly, Elven beauty is something I never thought I would have the privilege to behold.” She stood from her throne and moved closer to me, gesturing for me to stand. I did so, and she took my hand in hers. “I have never met Justiciar Larethiane, but he is a lucky man, indeed.”

My smile faltered slightly. “Of course. I hope I can make him happy and help to further strengthen our relations with Skyrim.” A brief silence hung in the air. “I…was sorry to hear what happened to your husband. I cannot even imagine the pain you feel.”

Elisif’s eyes almost immediately lost their sparkle, and I wondered if I shouldn’t have mentioned it. “My husband was a great man and capable High King of Skyrim. Ulfric Stormcloak will pay for his crimes, hopefully one day soon.” She let go of my hand and extended her arm out. “Your quarters for the night is just down the hall there. Please make yourself at home and prepare for dinner.” Despite the recent sorrow she had endured, she seemed so strong, her voice not faltering one bit. I respected that.

I turned to look at Marien and gave my head a little nod toward the room Elisif had mentioned. Once we were safely behind closed doors, she swatted my arm.

“You’ve always known how to bring a room down,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ve only just met the woman. Why did you feel the need to bring up her dead husband?”

I shrugged my shoulders and sighed. “I don’t know. I just felt like I needed to give my condolences. Is that so wrong?”

Marien tossed my satchel onto the bed that was already neatly made for someone to sleep in. “Given the current political climate, maybe.” She gestured for me to remove my cloak and began untying the back of my dress. “We should get you washed up before you dine with Nord nobility, don’t you think?”

“If you insist,” I chuckled. I breathed out deeply once Marien had finished unlacing my tight dress. “The food here is richer. I’ll probably get fat.”

Marien let out a bark of a laugh. “If _you_ get fat, then there’s no hope for any of us.”

I joined her in laughter for a moment, then caught a glimpse of my naked body in a mirror.

“Always, always, ALWAYS stand up straight!” my mother’s voice rang in my ears. “Your figure is your most important asset. If you lose it, then you’ve doomed yourself to life as a spinster.” I ran my hand along the contour of my slender arm, then across my smooth, flat stomach. It was true, my beauty was my only redeemable quality. I was no healer, no warrior, not even a skilled diplomat. I was raised only to be beautiful. For a while, I picked up magic, but my mother forbade me from practicing it once she found out. As it stood, I knew a few spells. Enough to ensure survival if the need ever arose, at least. My bright green eyes looked back at me, knowing all the deepest insecurities that I was too scared to confront myself with.

“Hey.” Marien’s soft voice pulled me out of my head. “At the end of the day, we’re all just sacks of flesh carrying around a skeleton. Don’t believe for one more moment that you’ve no value outside of your looks.”

I smiled warmly at my long-time friend. “Thank you.”

Later that evening, after dinner. I began to write to my father. I knew he didn't particularly care to know how I was faring, but I was still expected to keep correspondence. 

_My lord father, Justiciar Athved Elsinthar,_

_The winds of Skyrim blow harsh and frigid, much different than back home. This letter constitutes proof that I've arrived safely in Solitude, and am more than halfway complete with my long journey. I am thrilled to finally be here, in the land of the Nords. So far, they all seem to be quite cordial._

A lie. I was no stranger to them.

_The Jarl of Solitude was able to give me much insight on the traditions of this land. I imagine that we will become fast friends in time, once we are around each other more often in court. I bid you to not worry over me. I will complete my duties to the letter, and you will be proud to call me your kin. I swear on the Elsinthar name that I will not fail you. That is my greatest fear. I will send another letter once I am settled in Markarth._

_Your devoted daughter, Rayla_

I folded up the parchment, sealed it with our family's crest, and slid it into the pocket of my robes.

* * *

The next morning, we were off on our journey to Markarth. The escort team arrived at the Blue Palace not long after sunrise. I’d never been a morning person, so getting myself out of bed was difficult. That, combined with the fact I was on my way to meet my new husband, made it all the worse. Since we were rather hurried to be moving along, I'd forgotten to give the letter to my father to a courier. Oh well, I would have to find one along the way.

We were not traveling in style, in an effort to keep ourselves as discreet as possible. While the Thalmor were generally received well in Skyrim, there were many who wanted us dead. Marien and I were riding in a merchants’ carriage, with our escort team walking beside us, one on each side. Our driver was a simple Nord that they had paid to give us passage. I was certain I’d never sat on a more uncomfortable surface in my entire life. I had to put my cloak beneath my rear end to avoid getting too many splinters from the rough wooden bench. It almost felt like we were part of a prisoner caravan. I guess in some ways, we were.

The scenery was mostly the same as in Solitude. Lots of dense fir trees, some rock formations, and a few mountain goats galloping along every so often. I envied them. They could run and prance wherever they saw fit. Meanwhile, I was chained to this carriage.

Marien coaxed my arm. “Hey, don’t look so glum. You’re beginning your new life today.” The poor thing. I knew she was trying her best, but there was just no helping me. She took note of my dour expression and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you there all by yourself. It’s hard enough being in an unfamiliar place when you are with someone you know.”

I looked at her longingly. “At least you get to go back home to Atheron.” Marien had a love interest back in Summerset. He was one of the stable boys at my father’s manor. The two of them had been seeing each other and talking marriage for months now. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you after all this time.”

Marien laid her hand atop of mine. “Everyone’s purpose in life is different. And you have no idea where yours will take you.” She smiled at me and put her hand on my cheek. “I know you’re destined for great things, Rayla. You just need to trust in yourself.”

I reached out to hug her, but before I could get my arms around her, a stray arrow found its way into her chest.

“Brigands! It’s an ambush!” I faintly heard one of my escorts yell out.

“Marien!” I shrieked. I quickly grabbed her before she could fall over the edge of the carriage. Her eyes were already so dim. I looked around wildly, not able to process what was happening. I only heard yelling and screaming. My eyes began welling up with tears.

“My lady! Get down!” the escorts shouted at me, but I could barely keep up.

“Arrrgh!” Another arrow. This time in the back of the carriage driver. Everything was happening so fast.

I whipped my head around and spotted the horse, just standing there waiting to be told what to do. I could see the brigands coming out from the trees now. There were at least three or four of them. My escorts continued to do their best to fight them off, casting spark and flame spells. But there was no way we’d all be making it out of here alive. My hand found the small elven dagger in my pocket, but I knew I couldn't use it. I'd had no formal training in weapons combat. In my gut, I knew what I had to do. I laid Marien’s body on the floor of the carriage, taking in the sight of her one last time, and made my way to the horse. I did my best to take shelter from the crossfire by hiding behind the carriage. Both my escorts fell dead while I attempted my escape. Their cries would forever haunt my dreams.

I was not an agile woman. Growing up in court, you were never given lessons in “running for your life”. But I knew this was my only chance. I climbed on top of the horse and kicked the mare hard in the ribs. She took off sprinting in the opposite direction, carriage still in tow. I dug my fingers into her mane to keep from falling off. The bandits shouted at me and sent a barrage of arrows after us. I couldn’t afford to look back. I kept as low to the horse as I could and bid her to keep moving.

I don’t know how long we ran, but I do know it was almost nightfall when we stopped. We did end up losing the carriage along the way after hitting a large rock in the middle of the road. I clutched my stomach. Marien’s body would never be returned to Summerset. Atheron would never see her again. I put my head down and wept bitterly. The gods could be so cruel when they wanted to be.

After a while when all my tears had run out, the hopelessness of my situation became real again. I had to figure out how I was going to get to Markarth. I racked my brain for an idea. Anything that might help me get back on track. What could I do to save myself and get back to civilization? Then it came to me. My brief training in magic had given me knowledge of a spell that would illuminate the path to my current objective. But the words, what were the damn words?

“Gods, guide me on my journey, please!” I cried out whilst extending my hand. To my great surprise, it worked, and a glowing trail of blue light was now stretched out in front of me as far as I could see. I looked up to the heavens and let out a great sigh of relief. “Whoever you are up there, I thank you.”

An hour or so more passed, and it was now nightfall. The trail of light was still ahead of me, and I wondered for how much longer it would go on. I was cold, tired, and in need of a good meal. But it didn’t seem like there would be another settlement for miles.

“Easy now, girl!” I pulled back on the horse’s reins. Upon surveying the now different landscape, I had no idea where we were. It had begun to snow, and I realized I left my cloak in the carriage. I cursed to myself. Stranded in the middle of the coldest province in Tamriel, without a cloak to keep warm. I huddled myself into my Thalmor robes the best I could and nudged the horse forward again, but at a much slower pace now.

I scanned the horizon once more, but this time, I saw something. A great stone bridge lay just off in the distance. Large city walls also appeared soon after. I noticed that the lighted path before me was finally coming to an end. My heartbeat picked up, and I almost laughed deliriously. A blizzard was beginning to set in, but I didn’t care one bit. I had finally made it.

I patted the horse’s neck. “You’ve done so well to bring me here, girl,” I said with a smile. I knew she couldn’t understand me, but it felt good to talk to her, all the same. “Now please, just a bit farther…” I nudged her in the ribs again, but instead of picking up her pace, she let out a loud bellow and fell to the ground.

I cried out in pain as the weight of the horse’s body suddenly crushed my leg. As I tried to wriggle my way out from underneath her, I heard a terrible roar.

A bear the color of the snowstorm around me approached with great tenacity. “By the gods, what next?” I huffed. Knowing it was either get out from underneath the horse or be dinner for this hungry animal, I used all my strength to pull my leg out. The limb felt as though it were on fire. I grit my teeth and hissed, trying to keep my leg elevated enough so that it wouldn’t tear completely from my body. The bear only got closer. I finally managed to free my leg when it was right upon me. It lunged toward me, and at that same moment, flames flowed out from my hands.

The bear managed to get its claws in me, slashing right across my shoulder and along my arm. I screamed in pain and staggered back, but I kept my flames going. Using so much magic at once was draining me, very quickly. The bear was on fire, but it still kept coming at me. I took another scratch to my side and fell to the ground once more.

This bear was not giving up easily, but neither was I. I’d come too far for it to end this way. As my magicka ran out, I realized I was left with no choice. I reached for the small dagger in my pocket. One good stab was all I needed, nothing fancy. At least I knew that I had to use the pointy end. I offered up a quick prayer to whatever gods could hear me. The bear came running again. Instead of charging it, I laid myself down in the snow, and let it come towards me.

The bear jumped, intent of landing on top of me and devouring me right then and there. I saw my chance and took it. Before it could bite into me, I shoved my dagger into the beast’s heart. I cried out loudly, twisted the blade in as deeply as I could, and scooted my body out from underneath it. The bear bellowed and roared as it collapsed on its side right next to me, dead.

I couldn’t believe it. I had just killed a bear. If I died here, at least I could say I died with a fire inside of me. As ironic as the situation was, I had never felt so alive. My breath was labored as I staggered to my feet, dragging my limp leg behind me. “Just….a little…..father,” I told myself, clutching my wounds. My blood dotted the white snow as I trudged on. The bridge was so close now. I could almost reach out and touch it…

My eyelids soon became too heavy for me to hold them open. The city lights called out to me like a siren during a calm night at sea. I imagined a warm fire, a homecooked meal, and a fluffy pillow to lay my head on. My legs gave out, and I collapsed just at the edge of the bridge. I looked around me and saw my lifeblood pooling onto the ice-covered cobblestone. As my world grew darker, I could just barely see several shadowy figures approaching me.


	2. Storm Brewing

Much to my surprise, I woke up. My head was pounding and immediately I felt the sting of my wounds. The first thing I noticed was that I was warm, and no longer lying outside on the stone bridge. I heard the crackling of a nearby fire, smelled the firewood burning. My fingers flexed, and I felt a soft fur blanket beneath me. I had to be honest, I never thought I would make it to Markarth, but here I was. Lying on a soft bed in a warm room, which I presumed to be in an inn of sorts. The room was dark, being lit with only a few sconces on the walls. There weren’t really any windows, either, only a couple of long narrow slats cut into the stone. The locals must’ve found me and brought me to safety. I caught sight of my arm and noticed it was bandaged up very neatly, a little bit of blood seeping out in some spots. Maybe the people here were nicer than I initially had given them credit for.

I shifted my body in an effort to sit up, but was reminded of my other wound. I whimpered and threw my other hand to my side. My abdomen was also bandaged up tightly. I couldn’t feel my injured leg, however.

“You’re awake!” I turned my head around so fast, nearly giving myself whiplash. An old man with a long, gray beard and wearing mage’s robes sat on a chair in the far corner of the room. He stood quickly from his chair and rushed toward me. “Careful now, don’t sit up so quickly or you’ll tear your stitches!”

He rested his hand atop my chest and gently pushed me back down onto the pillow. I allowed him to do so, he seemed like a trustworthy fellow. “How long have I been unconscious?” I asked.

He sighed in thought. “Oh, probably about two weeks. We were all sure you wouldn’t come out of this.”

“Two weeks?!” I gasped. “I need to write a letter to my father, let him know I arrived here safely.” I tried to sit up again, but the old man stopped me. This time, with much more force. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go anywhere, young lady,” he told me in a very serious tone. His facial expression became one of concern. “You’ve found yourself in a very dangerous place.”

I knitted my brow in confusion. “What do you mean? I am expected here. Justiciar Larethiane should know of my presence.”

The old man shook his head. “You are with the Thalmor after all, then.” He straightened his back and folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t know where you believe you are, but I can assure you, you are not in the right place.”

My heart jumped into my throat. “This isn’t Markarth?” I could barely squeak the words out. Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Markarth?” he scoffed. “You’re about as far away from there as you can be,” he paused for a moment. “No, you are in Windhelm, elf.”

My brain struggled to process his words. I broke them apart, piece by piece. Windhelm, snowiest and coldest city in the province. Famous for being the oldest human settlement in all of Tamriel. Led by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Oh no…

“No,” I whispered. “No, it can’t be! My spell brought me here! I can’t be in Windhelm, I should be in Markarth!”

The old man chuckled darkly. “Seems you’ve still got a bit of learning to do, eh, young mage?” He turned to leave the room, and my breath hitched.

“Wait, where are you going?” Any feelings of trust I felt toward this man were immediately gone. He may have been the one to put me back together, but to what end?

“I am going to tell Jarl Ulfric that you’ve finally woken up. He wanted to be notified immediately.” The door creaked open and the mysterious old man vanished behind it.

It was too late for me. This was how I died. Not by a bandit’s arrow, not by a bear’s claws, but by the Jarl of Windhelm shoving a sword through me. Gods, how useless I was. Not even able to do the one thing I was sent here for. My parents were right about me, after all.

My father’s words echoed in my head. “Do this right, and I may grant you my inheritance, after all. But if you fail, do not bother to come home.” Well, it was clear now that I wasn’t going to be coming home, anyway. My bones would rot here in Skyrim. My body would probably be tossed into the ocean. The slaughterfish would pick at my flesh until there was nothing left of me.

“She’s rested long enough, Jorleif!” A deep, booming voice suddenly rang out. I shrunk back underneath the fur blanket. I could only assume the voice belonged to none other than Ulfric Stormcloak. “The time has come for answers, whether she wants to give them to me, or not!” The door flung open, and I was face to face with the man I had been told to fear. Two other men entered the room with him. The mage that I was already slightly acquainted with, and another man, dressed in fine garments and wearing a matching hat.

Ulfric didn’t exactly look how I imagined he would. He had dirty-blonde hair that reached his shoulders, and a set of braids that framed his face on either side. He was large in stature, a quality that seemed to be shared by most Nords. His face looked like it was chiseled straight out of a mountain, with sharp, angular lines that formed his jaw. There were a few wrinkles around his eyes that showed his age, and some lightly colored scars on his forehead and cheeks. He approached me with purpose, and for a moment, I thought he was going to pull me up by my hair. But he stopped just by the side of the bed, gazing upon me with fiery intent.

“You’ve got some nerve, elf, showing up at my doorstep the way you did,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were fixated on me, and it felt like he could see into my very core. He scoffed in disgust. “The best the Empire can do is a Thalmor spy who lets herself get mauled by a snow bear? How pathetic.”

“I’m not a spy!” I suddenly heard myself object. Ulfric’s eyes narrowed and he leaned down close to me, bracing his hands against the bed frame.

“My guards found you just outside the city wearing those.” He pointed to my torn up Thalmor clothes, which were sitting on a table on the other side of the room. “You’re clearly associated with them somehow, so you might as well tell the truth, elf!”

I sighed, supposing there was no use in coming up with some clever story. He was probably going to kill me, anyway. “I’m not a spy, but it’s true, I am connected with them.”

Ulfric leaned back a little and furrowed his brow. It was as if he wasn’t expecting that answer, even though I was sure it was almost exactly what he wanted to hear. “Tell me who you are, then,” he commanded.

I decided to hold nothing back. “My name is Rayla Elsinthar. I was sent to Skyrim from the Summerset Isles because I am betrothed to a Thalmor Justiciar in Markarth. We were to be wed as soon as I arrived there.” My ring was missing. I assumed Ulfric’s men had taken it.

Ulfric must’ve caught on to my blasé tone, because he said as much. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that.”

I almost laughed, but stopped myself. “You aren’t the first one to notice.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re here,” Ulfric reminded curtly, clearly not impressed with my attempt at subtle humor.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. My head continued to throb faintly. “Look, there isn’t much more to tell. Our caravan was ambushed by bandits and I took the horse. I cast a spell to guide me to Markarth, but it brought me here instead. That’s all.” A searing pain shot up through my bad leg and I cried out softly. It had finally woken up with the rest of me. “That’s when the bear killed my horse and nearly killed me.”

Ulfric gave my wounds a once-over, and I swore I saw the smallest shred of compassion in his eyes. “I admit, I am impressed you survived at all. Most people cannot say they fought off a snow bear and lived to tell of it.”

“She killed it, too, My Lord,” the man in the fine clothes said. “The guards said they found it not too far from her, burnt to a crisp and with a gaping hole in its heart.”

Ulfric’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that so?” I couldn’t help the sudden feeling of pride I had. I’d never been spoken of in such a way before. “You’re surprising me with every word that comes out of your mouth, elf.”

In spite of everything, a small smile crept onto my face. “I certainly had quite the adventure before my inevitable death. I’m grateful for it.”

Ulfric frowned. “Jorleif, Wuunferth, leave us for a moment,” he told the two men. They looked at each other, perplexed, but obeyed him, nonetheless. Once they were gone, Ulfric continued. “What do you mean ‘inevitable death’?” He sat down on the side of the bed, and I shuffled my body to try to give him as much room as he commanded.

“I’m an elf,” I said simply. “My race is your enemy. Even if I’m not a Thalmor spy, my very existence should be enough for you to want to kill me.”

He looked away from me and sighed deeply. “Is that what they told you about me?” He shook his head. “If I wanted you dead, I would have told my guards to leave you outside the city gates.” He looked back at me. “No, you’re worth more to me alive than dead. If what you say is true, then your connections with the Thalmor may prove quite useful to our cause.”

This time, I did allow myself to laugh bitterly. “So, it’s prison again, after all.”

Ulfric stood up. “A prison, of sorts. You will have food, a warm bed, and a roof over your head. This room, this palace, is to be your prison. You will not leave here without a guard escorting you, and you will by no means be allowed to leave the city.”

I had been through far too much to fight him on this, nor did I really want to. Clearly, he’d made up his mind about my fate, and wasn’t going to budge. “How long am I to stay here?”

He began walking toward the door. “You will stay here until Skyrim is free from the Empire and the clutches of the Thalmor. If it takes twenty years, so be it.” Before he opened it, he looked back at me. “You should be grateful. I prayed to Talos for many nights asking what I should do with you. I continue to pray that this was the right decision.”

This man was not at all who I thought he would be. He had a temper, clearly, but deep down, I could sense he was tormented by his own demons, just as I was. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about Talos,” I said quietly, fiddling with the edge of my blanket. “But I do hope you will tell me about him.”

His face softened and he looked down at the floor, as if trying to hide it. “Given time, I might.” He reached for the door handle. “You should rest some more. I’ll send Wuunferth back up to give you some potions that will help the pain.”

With those parting words, he was gone. I let out a deep sigh and flopped back onto my pillow, wincing as I did so. What had I gotten myself into?


	3. Caged Bird

A few more days passed. I had done nothing but lie in bed inside the same room, which now began to feel very small. Wuunferth, the mage, came up every so often to change my bandages, give me food, and administer medicine to me, but he was the only one I saw. Ulfric hadn’t paid me a visit since that first time. I suspected he was busy plotting how he could use me. What he didn’t know was that I really didn’t have anything to offer him. I may have been the daughter of a Thalmor, but that was as much connection to them that I had. I knew very little about the political strife of Tamriel, only that my father went to bed every night with severe headaches.

I was brought up to worship the Divines, particularly Dibella, since my mother taught me that beauty was so important, but I didn’t consider myself religious at all. I only prayed when I needed help, which, up until now, wasn’t very often. This war that we were all fighting over religion seemed utterly pointless to me. Why couldn’t people just worship whoever they pleased? Why did my kind feel the need to control that?

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the door open again. It was Wuunferth, and in his hand was another potion. I groaned inwardly. They all tasted so awful. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

I brought my hand to my head and exhaled loudly. My wounds were improving little by little every day, with the exception of my lame leg. “Fine, but I’d like to get out of this bed.”

Wuunferth laughed. “Well, I think you’ll be quite pleased with what I have here, then.” He strode over to my bedside and presented the funny-looking bottle to me. “This one’s for that leg of yours. Took me days to brew, but I believe I’ve finally got it right.” He popped the stopper off of the top of the bottle, and a little bit of smoke escaped. “Come on, bottoms up!” he insisted upon noticing how hesitant I looked. “Relax, girl. If the intent were to poison you, you would have been dead days ago.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. Ulfric had said himself that he wanted me alive. “Alright,” I conceded, and took the bottle from him with cautious hands. Wuunferth helped me sit up so I could drink.

“I’ve never made anything like this before, you know,” he said, seeming very proud of himself. “To think that the reason I made it was due to the fact an injured high elf wandered into the city…it is quite ironic.”

I shrugged off his jabbering and examined the liquid in the bottle. It was dark in color and gave off a very pungent odor. Reluctantly, I put the bottle to my lips. I was right, it tasted absolutely foul. But I made myself swallow and finished it off. Almost immediately, I felt a tingling sensation take root in my wounded leg. My foot twitched slightly, and I realized I could move my toes again. Feeling ambitious, I tried to bend my knee and was surprised when I could actually do so. I looked up at Wuunferth, astonished, and he chuckled. “Alchemy is a beautiful thing. When used correctly, of course.” I sat up completely straight and slowly swung my leg over the side of the bed. Chills ran up my spine when my bare foot touched the cold, stone floor. It was a sensation that I hadn’t felt in so long, and that I never thought I would feel again. Before Wuunferth could tell me no, I was standing. He gave me a look of careful warning. “Don’t go getting any ideas just because you can walk again,” he said. “You’re still not allowed outside the palace, for now.”

“I understand the terms, old man,” I said with a bit of a bite in my tone. “But I would like to see my prison, if that is alright.”

Wuunferth seemed to consider my words, then he nodded. “Alright, alright. But put this on first.” He tossed me a simple gown of blue linen, with a collar embellished with golden thread. Up until now, I had only been wearing a pair of loose-fitting breeches, which made it easier for Wuunferth to care for my wounds. I did as I was instructed and put the gown over my head. It wasn’t hard to tell that it was made for a Nord woman, because it hung on my frame quite loosely.

“What do you think?” I asked, turning toward Wuunferth.

“Looks nice enough,” he replied. An awkward silence hung in the air. Wuunferth coughed to try and fill it. “Well, go on then. Keep making yourself look pretty. I’ll be downstairs in my quarters if you need anything else.”

Once he left, I walked over to a mirror, turning my nose up at the sight of my hair. It was a mess. I did my best to finger comb through my long tendrils. There were no brushes to be found here, and my belongings had been taken from me. I looked at my face. I’d grown paler since leaving Summerset. My golden skin was now several shades lighter, and it resembled a piece of Alinorian cheesecake. Oh, gods. What I wouldn’t give for some of that right now.

Once I had determined that I was decent enough, I ventured out into the halls of the palace for the first time. There were no windows anywhere, only burning sconces. To my right was a dead end, so I headed left. There were many offshoots leading to what I could only assume were other bedrooms. At the end of a longer hallway sat a huge door, with a fancier carving hewn into it. That must have been where Ulfric himself slept. Not wanting to be charged with trespassing on top of everything else, I went the opposite way.

I found a flight of stairs and went down them, meeting with another door at the end. It was the only staircase to be seen, so I assumed opening the door would just take me to the ground floor of the palace. The room that was revealed to me looked pretty important, and I wondered if I should go back. But my curiosity got the better of me.

A large table with a map spread across it stared me straight in the face. Little red and blue flags were poking out from it, marking particular spots on the map. I glanced around at the walls. They were covered in weapon plaques, banners, and other Stormcloak paraphernalia. This was obviously their war room. The room where they planned out all of their army’s movements. 

I _definitely_ was not supposed to be here. I turned to leave through the same door I had come from, but the knob jiggled just as I was about to touch it. Terrified, I scanned the room for a place I could hide. A suit of old Nordic armor caught my eye, and I bolted behind it. “Rayla, you idiot,” I whispered to myself.

An older man wearing the fur of a bear walked into the room, followed by Ulfric. My stomach roiled. If they found me here, I was as good as dead. “You owe me a drink, Ulfric,” the man said in a rough, hardened voice. He’d done a lot of yelling in his day, I could tell. “That new recruit you said couldn’t be helped? Kicked my arse in training this morning.”

Ulfric chuckled heartily. “Fine, fine. But in my defense, he’s a Breton. They don’t have the same constitution as we Nords.” They didn’t stop anywhere in the room, but kept walking out into another hallway. I let out a breath I had been holding. Once they were totally out of sight, I stepped out from behind the suit of armor and made a quiet sprint for the door. Only, I was stopped in my tracks by the next thing that was said.

“Why you decided not to kill the elf is beyond me,” the gruff looking man chastised. “The people will not take kindly to knowing that a Thalmor resides in the city’s walls.” The voice in my head scolded me for wanting to get closer, but my body didn’t listen. I ducked into the short hallway and peered out just enough to see the large, open area before me. The throne room.

“You read that letter just as I did, old friend,” Ulfric said, taking a seat on the large, stone chair. “She’s of the purest high elf blood, next to the damned king of the elves himself. I kill her, and suddenly I’ve got all the Thalmor breaking down my walls.” Letter? Oh…they’d went through my belongings and found the letter I was writing to my father shortly after we’d arrived in Solitude. “We cannot afford an all-out war with the Thalmor. Not until we liberate Skyrim from Imperial control.”

The other man huffed at that. “Speaking of which…”

Ulfric sighed, leaning his arm against his throne. “If you’re going to talk about Whiterun, I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Whiterun is the steppingstone, you know as well as I. As soon as we take it, we’ll have much more weight behind us.”

“And much more Nord blood on our hands, Galmar!” Ulfric shouted, and for a brief moment, I swore I could hear thunder rumbling. He regained his composure and continued. “I am not ready to shoulder that burden yet.”

The man, called Galmar, sighed and shook his head. “So, the girl?” My ears burned with anticipation of what was to be said. I put my hand up against the wall but failed to realize that the stone I’d laid it upon was loose. I gasped and tried to grab it before it hit the ground, but I wasn’t quick enough. It dropped to the floor with a ‘thud’, alerting the two men of my presence.

Galmar immediately sought out where the noise had come from and ran towards me. “You little Thalmor bitch!” he yelled, grabbing me by the collar of my gown. I cried out in protest as he drug me toward the throne. “Not a spy, eh?” He threw me abruptly onto the ground and brandished the axe he was keeping at this side. I screamed as I waited for the sharp object to impale me, but it never did.

Ulfric was soon upon us, seizing Galmar’s arm and thrusting him away from me. “Contain yourself, Galmar!” he reprimanded the man, briskly taking his axe from him. “We cannot risk putting more scratches on her!” I could practically feel the heat radiating off the two of them.

Galmar gave Ulfric a look that could kill, then turned to me once more. “I still say we beat her and write a letter to this ‘Ondolemar’ in Markarth. Tell him if he wants his bride, he’ll have to come get her and give up the fight in return, or she dies!”

“Then the Thalmor can paint Skyrim with your blood!” Ulfric warned. “They’re too powerful. If we engage them now, there will be a massive bloodletting. Many will die, and for what? So we can seek petty revenge?” Galmar shifted his weight uneasily. Ulfric’s words were getting to him. “I hate the Thalmor, just as you do, but even I know that offering this woman up as a bribe isn’t worth the bloodshed it would cause.”

Galmar gave me one last look of utter disgust before leaving the room. “Elves are all better off dead,” he glowered. “You don’t belong here.” He spat on the floor at my feet, then turned abruptly on his heels.

“Seems like a nice fellow,” I said under my breath once I couldn’t see him anymore. Without warning, Ulfric grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him. I yelped, but he ignored it.

“And you,” he began, still seething with anger, “well you have a nasty habit of turning up in places you shouldn’t be.” He wanted to hurt me so badly. I could see it in his eyes. But _something_ was stopping him. Maybe it was his prayer to Talos, maybe it wasn’t. But it was definitely something. “Might I remind you that my men saved you from your death? You could show me a little gratitude by not snooping around!” He shoved my arm back down at my side.

I felt a cloud of rage looming over me, and I couldn’t help what I said next. “Well maybe I didn’t want to be saved?” I countered him. He took a surprised step back. “My life was over the moment I was born! You could’ve at least given me the courtesy of death to put me out of my misery!”

Ulfric made fists with his hands, so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “You nobles, always crying out from your gilded cages! How terrible your life must be, having been given everything you’ve ever wanted!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” I shouted back at him. We’d collected a small crowd of curious onlookers, but I didn’t care. Tears began to roll down my cheeks. “So don’t presume to tell me what kind of life I’ve had!”

Ulfric breathed in deeply through his nose. “Go back to your room!” he commanded. “I’ll assume you know the way there since you’ve already done your fair share of lurking!”

I straightened my back and sniffled. “Fine!” Scoffing one last time, I turned away from him and trudged out of the throne room, back the way I’d came. Once I was safely behind the closed doors of my own room, I sank down to the floor and began to weep.


	4. Beauty and the Beast

I did not leave my room for three days. I refused every meal that Wuunferth or Jorleif brought to me. If it was Ulfric’s intention to keep me locked away in the Palace of the Kings, then he would soon be keeping a corpse. I was done. I didn’t want to fight anymore. Not bears, not Ulfric, not anyone. Surely word of my disappearance had reached my father by now. Ondolemar was probably losing his head over in Markarth. I didn’t have a shred of care left. The sooner I was dead, the better. For everyone.

Hunger took hold of me like a starving dire wolf. I did my best to ignore it and resisted the temptation to scarf the meals the men brought in. What I lacked in physical strength, I made up for in my stubbornness.

As for my physical appearance, well, I looked like death itself already. My skin was almost as colorless as Skyrim’s northern wilds. My cheeks became more hollowed out. My hair no longer had its golden sheen. Soon enough, I would be able to pass. And nothing could stop me.

A fist rapped against the door suddenly. “My lady elf, may I come in?” It was Jorleif, the steward.

I half resisted the urge to scream at him to go away. “You may enter,” I said softly, my voice hoarse from ill use. I expected him to be holding another platter of food, but he carried nothing in his hands.

“I have come with a request from the Jarl,” he told me. My ears twitched.

“What does he want?” My arms wrapped around my body as I assumed a more guarded position. I somewhat hoped that he had finally decided to put me to death, after all.

“It is his wish that you join him for supper this evening,” the steward said. I looked at him incredulously.

“He wishes to dine with me?” My tone was nothing if not venomous. “Why would a high and mighty Nord such as himself with to sup with an elf?”

Jorleif only shook his head. “Far be it from me to know what goes on in the Jarl’s mind. I just watch the court for him.” He noticed my steeled expression, then put a finger up. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He disappeared behind the door for a moment and returned, holding a bag. My bag. “The Jarl also wishes to return your personal artifacts to you.” He tossed me the bag and I caught it by the strap. Rummaging through it briefly, I noticed something was missing.

“My dagger?” I questioned. Jorleif frowned.

“Yes, well…everything but that. Ulfric is continuing to hold onto any weapons you had. For safety reasons.” I sighed and dropped my bag onto the bed. “But your clothing and everything else you brought with you is in there, I promise.”

“Tell the Jarl I appreciate his kind gesture,” I told Jorleif, though my voice held no gratitude. “And also, that I will not be joining him this evening.”

Jorleif’s face fell. “Please, at least consider it. Ulfric does not normally do this. Especially with people of…your kind.” The glare I gave the man made him shrink back a bit. “You have a few hours to decide. Ulfric will be awaiting you in the main hall at seven-thirty.” With that, he turned and left.

I dug through my bag once more and found the fine dress I had come to Skyrim in. I examined it briefly, finding no stains or tears. At least they’d taken care of my things for me. As I lifted the skirts of my dress to shake out the wrinkles, I heard something small drop onto the floor. I scanned the ground to try and find the tiny object and found it hiding underneath a wooden chair.

My ring. I got down on all fours to collect it. “Damned thing,” I cursed it. “You’re the reason I’m even in this mess.” I held it up to eye-level, directly in front of the fireplace. I knew what needed to be done. Without missing a beat, I tossed it into the flames. I watched the fire lick at the small band of gold, and the fire inside of me grew once more. “You’re so pathetic, Rayla,” I told myself, reaching for the dress.

* * *

The laces of my Alinorian dress could not be done up as tightly as I would have preferred. I didn’t have Marien to help me dress anymore. I fiddled with the ties, trying as I might to secure them, but I would have to settle with what I’d been able to do on my own.

Why I agreed to this, I had no idea. I didn’t see any good that could possibly come from having supper with Ulfric. The man would probably just use it as an excuse to yell at me again. Either that, or he would continue to try and weasel information out of me. Regardless, I was in for an awful night.

The throne room of the Palace of the Kings doubled as a dining hall for all its occupants. The table that sat in the middle of the room was large and took up almost the entire length of the hall. The table itself was filled with food, much more than anyone who actually lived in the palace could possibly eat.

Ulfric was seated at the far end of the table, closest to his throne. When he saw me, he stood. I swallowed a great deal of saliva. Why did I suddenly feel so nervous? I wiped sweaty hands on the front of my gown, hoping I had done it discreetly enough. “I didn’t think you would come,” he said simply. The way he shifted his weight didn’t go unnoticed.

My feet felt like lead bricks as I walked closer to the table. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know why I’m here, either. Especially seeing as I received no escort to bring me down from my room.” A small jab. Two could play at this game.

Ulfric sighed, looking down at his feet. “I…apologize for the way I acted the other day. I let my temper take hold of me.”

An apology? Well that was certainly unexpected. “Why apologize to me? I’m your prisoner.”

Ulfric folded his arms across his broad chest. “Maybe so, but you’re still a person. I had no right to lash out at you the way I did.” He gestured to the table, practically begging me with his eyes to sit. Reluctantly, I did so. He resumed his seat across from me.

I examined the spread of food in front of me. Gods, it all looked so delicious. My mouth began to water a little. I cleared my throat and turned my eyes down to my lap. No, I would not submit so easily.

“Jorleif and Wuunferth say you haven’t been eating,” Ulfric said, taking a piece of bread from the middle of the table and dropping it in front of me. “Call it intuition, but I believe they’re worried about you.”

I stared at the piece of bread longingly. “I don’t think that’s true at all.” Ulfric grunted and leaned his cheek upon his hand. The look he gave served little more than to unnerve me.

“You’re wasting away, elf,” he said matter-of-factly. “Not that there was much of you to begin with,” he added after a short pause.

My eyes narrowed at him and my fingers clasped at each other underneath the table. “You’ve well spotted.” It was the first time anyone had insulted my figure, and I had to admit, I was more offended than I thought I would be.

“I can’t have you starving to death on me,” Ulfric chided, a twinge of annoyance in his voice. “Now, eat.”

I turned my head away from him. “I do not wish to.”

“Dammit, woman!” Ulfric nearly growled. He grabbed a fork and slammed it hard into the wood of the table, making it stick straight up. I didn’t flinch. I was used to his outbursts by now. “I give you shelter in my palace! I give you food from my table! Can you not see I’m trying my hardest to keep you alive?”

“And can _you_ not see I’m trying my hardest to do the opposite?” I shot back. “By the gods, it’s much harder to die in Skyrim than they told me it would be!” There was silence for a brief moment, as Ulfric no doubt tried to process what I said.

“Why do you wish death upon yourself so badly?” he inquired. There was a genuine curiosity in his voice. “Do you really have nothing to live for, highborn?”

I stared down at my lap and shook my head. “No. There is nothing to live for when your every move is planned out for you.” I glanced back up and was met with Ulfric’s searching eyes.

“Won’t you tell me your story then, elf?”

I sighed inwardly. Where to even begin? “My parents have never smiled at me. Not even once. My father took absolutely no joy in having a daughter, because I couldn’t carry on the family name. My mother raised me to be prim, proper, and pretty. It was the only thing I knew, my only chance of survival in this cruel, unforgiving world.” Ulfric’s eyes were trained on me, and his expression became less hardened. “You see now why I said my life was over when I was born. I am no use to anyone. Not to my parents, not to Ondolemar. Not even to you.” His back straightened up slightly. “I share no commonalities with the Thalmor, Jarl Stormcloak. I barely even know why we’re fighting this war.” My voice trailed off. “I’m just simply…here.”

Ulfric seemed to think about my words for a moment. “You’re definitely not like any Thalmor I have had the misfortune of meeting. I knew that about you from the moment you spoke your first words to me. Something told me that you would be-“ he corrected himself “that you _are_ , different.”

My eye caught sight of a rather tasty looking dessert just inches away from my plate; a small, round cake with a hole in the middle, and white icing dripping down the sides. I looked away just as quickly. Gods, I really was hungry. It would be my sweet tooth that would betray me, yet. “But you cannot trust me,” I said.

“No,” Ulfric agreed. “I cannot trust you, just as I cannot trust any outsider these days.” He grabbed a tankard in front of him and took a large gulp of what I could only assume was mead. “But that’s not why I’m keeping you here.”

I nodded. “I do understand, Jarl. I know the Imperials must not know of my presence here.”

Ulfric wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered. “They’ll mistake your being here as that we captured you, when we did not. You came to us purely by accident.” He rubbed his temples. “You’ve thrown a bit of a fork into my plans.” I couldn’t help the way my shoulders slouched in embarrassment. “The only way to ensure Windhelm’s safety, and yours, is if they don’t even know you’re here.”

“My safety?” I inquired, knowing full well I was leading him into a trap. Indeed, his eyes widened in surprise and he put the tankard to his mouth again to try and disguise it.

“It is the will of Talos,” he said curtly, replacing his drink on the table. I took note of the way he set it down with more force than before. “I keep praying to him and he keeps sending me…visions.” His voice trailed off slightly and he looked to the direction of his throne. “Visions…of you.” His eyes found mine again, but this time, they seemed utterly changed, like there were no longer any storm clouds brewing in them. “Your importance to our cause has not yet been revealed, but I suspect it will be, given time.”

I cleared my throat softly. I couldn’t help but think of that man who had nearly killed me right here in this room. “Not many here seem to agree with this decision you’ve made, particularly that man of yours who wears the bear skins.”

Ulfric tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a cough. “Galmar, yes. If you thought I had a temper, he is worse. Much worse.”

“I think one would have to blind _and_ deaf not to notice that.” This time, Ulfric did laugh. I couldn’t help the brief shock that washed over me. Ulfric Stormcloak had just laughed at something I said, and it wasn’t even a joke.

“Give the man some time, he’ll come around,” were Ulfric’s next words. He was speaking so casually to me, and I had to wonder what changed between now and a few days ago. However, it wasn’t too long before he noticed I still had not touched one bite of food. He exhaled deeply. “I had thought it would be easier for you to eat if you had some company, but I see now that I was wrong.”

I folded my hands in front of me and pressed my mouth to them. “For the last several days, I’ve wanted to die.” Ulfric leaned in a bit closer, and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. “But now, I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want to go to Markarth, but I also don’t want to go back home.” I sniffled, letting my tears fall freely. “I’m no one no matter where I go.” Why I was spilling my emotions to my captor, of all people, I did not know. But I felt as though I would explode if I kept them locked inside for much longer. “I don’t want to die anymore, but I also don’t really want to live. If that makes any sense at all.”

Ulfric stayed quiet through it all, just looking at me. When it seemed like my sniffling was letting up, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry that I cannot tell you what your destiny is,” he said. “But, perhaps I can give you something that might help you feel like you have a place in the world.”

I looked up at him, bewildered. “What is it?”

“Wuunferth tells me that you have the potential to be quite gifted with magic. I could…assign you a position as his apprentice, if you wish.”

I’m sure you could’ve painted a picture of my dumb face for as long as I sat there. “I never thought I would be given the chance to study magic again.” Suddenly, it seemed like it was so much brighter all around me. Perhaps a proverbial cloud had been lifted from our exchange this evening, after all.

“You’ve not given me an answer, yet,” Ulfric reminded, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Please, yes!” I begged. “I will stay out of everyone’s way and I’ll do whatever Wuunferth tells me, I swear!”

Ulfric nodded. “By your resolve, then. You will start your training with him in the morning.” He looked to my plate once more. “Now that you are happier, will you eat?”

I sighed and a smile crept up onto my face. “I think I will have some of that cheese.”

* * *

Later on that night, just before I went to sleep, I heard a soft knock at my door. I called out to see who it was, but they did not answer. I put the book down that I had been reading, _The Legend of Red Eagle_ , and made my way to the door. I opened it, and was surprised when there was no one standing there. Not even anyone in the halls around my room. I shrugged my shoulders and began to close the door, but something on the ground caught my eye.

I bent down and picked up a shiny silver platter, with the same sweet treat on it that I had been eyeing at dinner. Also on the plate was a note, addressed to me.

_Rayla,_

_I couldn’t help but notice that you were looking at this quite fondly during dinner. It is called a sweet roll, and they are quite popular in Skyrim. I felt that you should try it. And if ever you want another, just speak with my cook, Sifnar, and he will make you a fresh one. I have instructed him to do as such._

_Sleep well,_

_Ulfric_

I dreamed wonderful things that night. Having something sweet in my stomach for the first time in weeks had a hand in that, no doubt. One of my dreams featured Ulfric and myself, staring out from a balcony at some unspecified location. It was a little bizarre, I thought, to see myself and Ulfric in such a way, but sugar tended to make my mind more active. I didn’t give it another thought.


End file.
